


The Bull's Heart

by Thestarswillnotsaveus



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Bluff City Spoilers, F/F, Mention of Violence Off-Camera, Post-Canon, Sad girl hours, but they'll be okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:34:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22416358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thestarswillnotsaveus/pseuds/Thestarswillnotsaveus
Summary: Elena hasn't seen Hilda since the incident at the auction house, and she's worried.Hilda's feeling like she doesn't want to be seen by anyone ever again.Entry for Secret Samol 2019, for waltztangocache
Relationships: Elena Flores/Hilda Quick
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8
Collections: Secret Samol 2019





	The Bull's Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [waltztangocache](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waltztangocache/gifts).



Elena understood why Hilda didn’t text her back the first two days after the E. Masque incident. The three days after that she was concerned, but figured she just wanted some more space.

After a week she was deeply worried.

Chanty wasn’t much help. The crew was on hiatus from crime-fighting while Hilda and Franklin recovered from their wounds, and Chanty spent her newfound free time poring over her mentor’s records, determined to memorize everything about every criminal in Bluff City. It was clear that she blamed herself, even for those who hadn’t heard her cursing herself under her breath. She’d always considered herself the leader, and now she felt she’d let them down, no matter how much Elena tried to reassure her.

Franklin wasn’t much better. The day after the incident, he’d tried to stop a mugging, and nearly gotten himself killed. He was lucky Elena had caught up to him, otherwise he may not have made it to the hospital. The man couldn’t even support his own weight yet, and he was trying to get back out on the streets to fight crime. He was too busy trying to engineer escape attempts to listen to anyone about much of anything.

Which left Elena, on a Thursday night, laying in bed staring up at her phone, wishing Hilda would answer her texts. 

She furrowed her brow, then sighed. Laying here wasn’t going to help, and it wasn’t going to clear her head. Sighing, she got out of bed and pulled on her hoodie.

\--------

Hilda Quick hadn’t left her room since she’d had a breakdown at her last signing. It wasn’t very becoming of a superhero to break down sobbing in front of a crowd of people, unprompted. Her agent had done a remarkable job of getting her out of the venue and covering up the damage, but she still knew she was the talk of every tabloid, every forum, oh God the tweets. 

“Paternoster? More like, Paterlost-’er-marbles” 81 comments, 572 retweets, 7 thousand likes.

“I know this isn’t very ‘PC’ or whatever, but I’m just gonna say it: men are suited to be superheroes than females #FACTS” 473 comments, 320 retweets, 5 thousand likes.

“You ever see a superhero so bad you immediately go to sleep?” 15 comments, 502 retweets, 2 thousand likes.

Hilda’s phone vibrated again, no doubt her agent trying to get in touch with her again. She’d been calling relentlessly, even come and knocked, pleading, on her bedroom door. Hilda had ignored her.

A shudder ran down her spine as Hilda’s mind as her thoughts went back to that painting. Instinctively, she pulled her wings as tight as she could against her back. Her whole life, Hilda had been showered in praise: for her beauty, her intelligence, her strength, her wings. And for the first time in her life, she just wanted to disappear, to fade into some crowd or some oblivion, she wasn’t entirely sure which. Her room was so small all of a sudden, and yet her walls towered over her, claustrophobia compressing her down and down.

She released a breath she hadn’t noticed she was holding. Gingerly, she stepped to her window and opened it, feeling for just a moment a wave of fresh air across her face; and for a moment she was up in the air, wings outspread and feeling the sun across her skin, free as anything.

Then she remembered the portrait, and Hilda returned to her bed to sob.

\--------

Across the complicated years of her life, the percussive rhythm of leather against Elena’s fists was her most constant and reliable companion. Tonight, however, the punching bag at her favorite gym held no comfort for her, no answers. All she had to show for her night out was sweat, and a soreness that she was determined not to think about right now.

She’d pushed herself too hard, and she knew it. The thing they didn’t tell you about developing super strength is how easy it was to let it get away from you, to cut loose and over-exert.

Elena sighed. She’d caught a cab to get here, and the idea of walking all the way home while sore and miserable wasn’t an appealing one. The boxer started to make a list of friends nearby who might let her crash on their couch. Unfortunately, the Firebird Gym was in a moneyed part of town, the owner had made it good a while back and set up shop in a part of Bluff City that was increasingly being gentrified, all new money, the sort Elena typically didn’t get along with, except for-

Hilda’s place was only a short walk from here. Elena’s stomach flipped at the idea of seeing her after what had happened between them, but-

What had happened between them? Elena still hadn’t gotten a straight answer from Hilda as to what actually happened that day at the auction house, why things went so wrong. Still, just showing up at her front door, uninvited, surely she shouldn’t-

Elena’s legs were already carrying her down the sidewalk away from the gym.

\------

It wasn’t until she could actually see the mansion that Elena realized how little she’d planned this out. The driveway to the mansion was longer than the block she’d grown up on, and though the gate leading to it was wide-open, it still seemed like a bad idea to walk up to an ambassador’s mansion unannounced and knock on the door.

Okay, so just walking in was out. Fighting her way in seemed like an even worse idea, and that was her usual approach to things, so Elena was a little stumped. What would Chanty do? She took a deep breath, and looked closer at the mansion.

On the side of the mansion, she spotted an open window. Ordinarily, breaking into a rich guy’s mansion would sound like more trouble than it's worth, but Elena didn’t always think clearly when it came to Hilda. And so, she made her way over towards the window, and began to climb a drainage pipe up the wall.

‘This is crazy.’

‘I am going to be seen, and I am going to be arrested.’

‘Waxwing is going to have my head for this.’

Elena’s worries, much like her breath, left her as soon as she reached the window.

\--------

“What are you DOING here!?”

Those were the words Hilda wanted to say when she saw Elena in her window, but they caught in her throat. Seeing Elena flooded her head with feelings: gratefulness, surprise, horror, that-weird-emotion-that-always-entered-her-head-when-she-saw-Elena. But mostly, she felt ashamed. She didn’t want anyone to see her, but especially not Elena, not like this. Her eyes were puffy from crying, she hadn’t brushed her hair- or even showered- in days. Her nightgown was disgusting from constant wear and wiping tears away. And she still couldn’t bear the thought of anyone looking at her wings.

After what felt like hours, Elena spoke, “You know, it's a pretty nice home you’ve got here.”

Hilda dropped her gaze.

“So, I was in the area and exhausted after hitting the gym, and I thought I’d ask if I could cra-” Elena cut herself off mid-sentence. “Hilda, what’s going on? I’ve been texting you for days, no one’s seen you, and I want to know what’s wrong.”

Hilda wanted to turn her back to her friend, but doing so would put her damnable wings on full display. “I’m sorry.” She was desperate to say more, thoughts pooling in her head, but they were all jumbled, and she couldn’t untangle any long enough to voice them.

“Hey, its gonna be okay. Whatever’s going on, we can figure it out. You and me, and Chanty, and even Franklin. We’re like, superheroes.” Elena took a step towards Hilda.

Hilda recoiled, “You lot are superheroes, and I don’t deserve to work with you. All I contribute is trouble.”

“Hey come on. That’s not true, and you know it.”

She shook her head. “The fight with Thresher, all I did was whiz around a bit, get myself slapped around and a man almost killed by her tail. And at the pier-”

“That wasn’t your fault-”

“-I lost control entirely, and nearly drowned for my trouble. If you hadn’t saved me, I’d be dead, and if you hadn’t NEEDED to save me, you could have helped Franklin.”

Now Elena shook her head. “Hey, you know that guy’s a loose cannon, there was no way for any of us to help him at that point without nearly getting killed ourselves in that wave. We were in over our heads.”

Hilda sat back on her bed, silent.

Elena took a few more steps forward, standing directly in front of the silent girl.

“We’ve gotten hurt on plenty of jobs. Sure, this was a bad one, but what else is going on here?”

Hilda’s face went white. In a voice barely above a whisper, she let out, “The painting.”

“The painting? The one we brought back, the one of Goldfinch?”

Hilda nodded slowly. “When I looked at it, I felt-” her voice caught.

“-I felt like I should hide my wings.”

Elena cocked her head. “What? I thought Goldfinch was all about being heroic and saving people, why would a portrait of her make you want to hide your wings?”

Hilda shook her head again, feeling the jumbled thoughts beginning to pour out.

“I don’t know, but that portrait, i-it… It’s terrible. There’s something to it, that got me thinking, I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve any of this. I’m a terrible hero. I can’t even keep my friends safe or an audience entertained, how am I gonna keep an entire CITY safe? I should just curl up somewhere and let myself fade into obscurity, find a way to-”

“Hilda.” Elena cut her off gently, moving to sit on the bed beside her.

“You don’t have to keep an entire city safe, WE do. Together. And I don’t want to do it without you, and not just because you’re a celebrity. Like, that’s cool and all, but I just love going in to work everyday knowing that I get to protect Bluff City with you watching my back. This job is dangerous, and it sucks sometimes, sure. But there’s no one I’d rather have watching my back than you.”

At this, Hilda broke down sobbing, throwing her head into Elena’s lap. As she cried, Elena stroked her friend’s hair slowly, course fingers delicately teasing at knots and gingerly moving along her scalp.

Hilda cried for the next several minutes, and when she had finished the two girls sat on her bed, uncertain how to act next. Finally, Hilda settled for placing her hand on Elena’s, and burying her face in the girl’s shoulder. The two sat like this into the early hours of the morning, Elena continuing to stroke Hilda’s hair.

Finally, Hilda broke the silence, “So you said you needed a place to spend the night.”

In the morning, Hilda would explain to her parents that Elena was her friend, and that she’d slept over. They would be amenable, and far more excited by the fact that their daughter had finally left her room. They would share a nice breakfast, one of the best Elena could remember, and then the two would go off to the arcade to check in on Chanty.

But that was in the morning. For the time being, both girls were content to sleep next to each other, both exhausted but somewhat revitalized by the calming nature that can only come from sharing a bed with one’s love after a long day.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to waltztangocache for requesting a fantastic prompt, I'd been wanting to write Elena and Hilda since hearing When Justice Is Done, I had a blast writing them and I hope you enjoyed reading!
> 
> A HUGE thank you to the Secret Samol organizers for the work they put into organizing this project. Its a massive undertaking, and it is incredible to see such an event event pulled off as seamlessly as it is year after year now.
> 
> Related, a massive apology to the Secret Samol organizers for finishing this work at 3 AM CST the day assignments are due. Thank you for your patience, and I promise next year I'll do my best to not let depression beat me up as hard.
> 
> Thank you also to everyone who creates for Secret Samol, it is incredible to see the work y'all put in and the masterpieces you make. I'm so excited to go through the tag and be amazed once posts go live.
> 
> Thank you to the Table Friends, none of this would be possible without you.
> 
> And thank you for reading this, including this scrawl of an end note, which I remind you was written at 3 AM. I hope you enjoyed reading this, and please feel free to let me know what you liked/how I can improve!
> 
> Keep it Wavy.


End file.
